


love me by the minute

by doremifasorashige, thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, phone sex operator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2019-01-16 21:07:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12350664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doremifasorashige/pseuds/doremifasorashige, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Fujigaya isn’t the only one who can paint a porno with words.





	love me by the minute

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

For Fujigaya, his voice is everything, and without it he would deem his life useless. Well, maybe not useless; you’d have to take away his stunning good looks as well because he’s sure he could get any job he wanted based solely on his face. Working as a phone sex operator, Fujigaya loves the power his voice has over people, enjoys the little sounds they make as they touch themselves and knowing it’s all because of _his voice_. If it wasn’t for the fact that he has to sleep at some point, Fujigaya would gladly do this all day.

It has its downsides. Because Fujigaya spends a vast majority of his time talking like a slut and being seductive, when he gets the chance to have sex on his own, the entire prospect of talking turns him off completely. He has no desire to think about work while he’s getting laid. Naturally, this means that he doesn’t get laid very often. Being upfront about his job description usually makes them _want_ it, while withholding it makes for awkward conversation when they ask for it.

Not to mention nobody actually wants to date someone who fucks people over the phone for a living. He understands the sentiment a bit, having dated a stripper for a while, though he’ll still argue that phone sex and dancing on complete strangers are two different things, no matter what Kitayama says.

It makes approaching people really uncomfortable, too. It’s like why bother when they’re just going to run away or try to get him to bring his work home. There doesn’t seem to be anyone who stands in the middle, where it’s okay for Fujigaya to say filthy things for money but prefers it silent at home.

Well, not completely silent, Fujigaya amends as he nearly gets off when his favorite client moans right into his ear. He calls once or twice a week, which is a hell of a lot considering Fujigaya’s rates, and all he does is sit there and jerk off while Fujigaya tells him what he’s going to do to him.

Usually the callers are quite specific about what they want—they’re paying someone to live out their fantasy, after all. But this one lets Fujigaya decide, “anything is fine, just talk” and so Fujigaya had tried out some of his own fantasies as well as generic sexual situations, trying to think of new things each time to keep it exciting.

And while Fujigaya generally likes all of his clients, he likes this one the best. His pulse races when they talk—or he talks—and every sound his client makes is pressed directly into his ear, whether it be a sharp intake of breath or a loud moan asking for more. “Just a little more, I’m so close,” until Fujigaya hears him grunt out his release over the line.

The first time they had talked Fujigaya would have to admit he was just a tiny bit turned on, wanting to hear more of the other’s voice and secretly hoping he’d call again. It isn’t everyday you get to hear an almost equally enjoyable voice mumbling encouragements and begging over the line.

He tries even harder with this client, bring up some of his best stuff, throwing in some extra sexy sighs here and there, and these throaty moans he hopes sends shivers down the other’s spine. If Fujigaya’s honest with himself, he probably wouldn’t mind talking during sex if he ever met this one in person just to see the reaction’s his voice has over him. The idea of it alone almost has Fujigaya asking for it after their latest session.

But he knows better and lives with his own secret fantasy, at least one that he can’t share over the phone. Their cubicles are private enough that Fujigaya can join in on the fun if he wants to, and he often does. Lately, though, he’s been waiting to see if this particular client happens to call first, because Fujigaya gets off the hardest with him.

There’s a new coffee shop on the way home from the shady warehouse where the phone sex company operates, and while coffee at six a.m. after a long night chatting up complete strangers to orgasm is a bad idea, the muffins look tasty.

The first thing Fujigaya notices is the awkward-looking kid behind the counter. Not necessarily a kid, he amends when he gets closer, placing him around Fujigaya’s own age. He must be new, Fujigaya reasons, and not just because the shop is new. He seems to fumble with everything and trip over nothing, looking like he grew six centimeters overnight and doesn’t quite know how to work with them, but as Fujigaya gets closer to the counter he totally sees why this guy is placed on the front line.

He’s gorgeous. Big, dark eyes, clear skin sprinkled with a few moles to draw your attention, and full, pouty lips. Straight brown hair tucked underneath his work hat, which he somehow makes look good complete with the standard polo shirt and apron.

“Can I help you?” he asks, and his voice is so deep that Fujigaya is mesmerized for a second before he remembers where he is.

“Yeah, I was thinking about having a muffin,” Fujigaya says, pointing towards the display in the glass case. “Are there nuts in any of—”

He cuts himself off when he glances up at the barista’s face, which looks pale and terrified like he’d just seen a ghost. Fujigaya blinks at him and he sheepishly turns away, his skin now tinting pink as he focuses his attention on the muffins.

“These two have almonds,” he says strongly, like he’s forcing his voice to be even. “I have to tell you that they’re all made in the same place, so there may be a stray nut in the others. You know, if you’re allergic.”

“I’m not allergic,” Fujigaya says, trying to side-eye the barista’s nametag. “I prefer nuts, actually.”

The other man squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head for a second, then brings himself back to reality and the muffins. “Then we have cranberry almond and banana almond.”

“Have we met before?” Fujigaya asks, a little confused by the barista’s reactions. “You’re acting like we hooked up at a party and I never called you again, and I’m pretty sure I would remember hooking up with someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” the other man asks, now on guard. “What do you mean by that?”

Fujigaya rolls his eyes. “Come on, you have to know you’re incredibly good-looking.”

Now the barista is blushing, which is actually kind of cute. “Thanks. But I don’t know you. I mean, I’ve never met you before.”

“Ah, then introductions are in order,” Fujigaya says, smiling as big as he can for six a.m. with no sleep. “Fujigaya Taisuke.”

“Tamamori Yuuta.”

“Well, Tamamori-kun,” he says slowly, tiredness taking its toll on him. “I’ll take one of each. And a coffee, decaf.” Fujigaya doesn’t miss the tiny shiver that runs through Tamamori’s body.

It takes a few seconds, but Tamamori nods and tells him he’ll be just a moment, turning away from the counter and Fujigaya.

As he waits for his order, Fujigaya idly looks around the more or less deserted coffee shop; one of the perks to heading home so early in the morning is that you avoid the rush of people. His eyes wander back to the barista, watching as he makes Fujigaya’s coffee and looking as if he’s secretly praying to get it right this time and not spill anything. “Are you new?” He finds himself asking with mild interest.

Tamamori jerks suddenly the moment Fujigaya speaks and casts a glance back over. “The shop is new.”

Fujigaya rolls his eyes and mumbles, “Smartass,” under his breath. “Yes, but,” he trails off as Tamamori slowly makes his way back to the counter to place Fujigaya’s coffee on it and turns to retrieve the muffins. “You’re moving like a newborn giraffe. I just figured you’d be new to the whole coffee shop thing.”

Blinking slowly, Tamamori nods once and rings Fujigaya up, eyes trained perfectly on the register. “Have a nice day, come again.” he says after handing Fujigaya his change with a slight bow. Fujigaya’s sure that it’s more due to the fact it’s required and not that he’s hoping Fujigaya will come back with his comments.

Fujigaya smiles once more and waves at Tamamori, paper bag with his muffins ruffling with the movement, before turning and walking out.

The coffee is hot as he sips it while walking home slowly, and it warms his entire body, making the annoying crick in his neck melt away as he focuses solely on the coffee. Fujigaya doesn’t usually drink decaf since it’s entirely pointless, and with the lack of an added caffeine boost that he usually expects, Fujigaya is more than ready to pass out in his bed. It’s good though, not too sweet. Fumbling over himself or not, Fujigaya thinks that Tamamori guy sure can make a cup of coffee. He’ll have to go back when he isn’t so tired.

“What do you look like?” is Fujigaya’s favorite question to be asked at work. Even better if it’s just “tell me what you look like.” He can be anyone he wants to be on the phone, anyone from a buff athlete to a foreigner who just happens to have a really good Japanese accent. For the most part he’s honest, because unlike that gangly barista, Fujigaya knows that he’s hot, but he can’t be too specific—he doesn’t want to be recognized on the street, after all.

They don’t always ask, though. In fact, the handbook (yes, there is one) says that Fujigaya has to reply to that question with “what do you _want_ me to look like?” in case the caller has a specific type in mind. Nothing is more of a turn-off than imagining someone you don’t find attractive.

So when his favorite caller asks, Fujigaya is rather surprised but replies with the standard question anyway. It’s unexpected mostly because they’ve been ‘talking’ (well, Fujigaya has been talking) for a couple _months_ now; why wait so long to put a face to the voice?

“You,” the elusive ‘M-kun’ answers, throwing Fujigaya for a loop. “I want you to look like you.”

“Well, all right then,” Fujigaya says, then launches into his practiced self-description that adds a little muscle and a few centimeters of height. He adds his dick length just to get back on track, though he’s never once measured and he’s pretty sure only mutant porn stars get as big as he claims to be. It’s all a fantasy anyway, right? In the course of his career, Fujigaya’s pretended to be a cross-dresser, a schoolboy, and his personal favorite, a transsexual stripper. It’s fun to make believe, just like when he was a kid.

“Is your hair long or short?” M-kun asks, sounding mildly interested beyond sexual gratification.

“Long,” Fujigaya answers, his hand subconsciously reaching up to twist one of the curls at the base of his neck as he goes on. “Mm, you want to pull it?”

“Yeah.”

“I like that,” Fujigaya says, and it’s not a lie at all. “You can pull my hair with both fists while I suck you into my mouth, would you like that?”

“Yeah.”

The best part of this job is when he can be himself, saying what he likes for real and actually getting off on it instead of faking it, and M-kun allows him to do this. So when M-kun asks him to choose whatever scene he wants to act out this time, Fujigaya doesn’t think twice before he picks a coffee shop, placing M-kun in the barista’s position and hiding under the register to blow him while he takes orders. M-kun seems into it, so he goes on to have M-kun bend him over the prep table and fuck him hard in front of the other workers and customers.

It’s that same scene that he dreams of a few nights later, the timid barista working an early morning shift just as when Fujigaya had met him. It goes a bit differently than his fantasy with M-kun, instead of Fujigaya doing just what M-kun wants, Fujigaya does what _he_ wants. Slowly seducing him with small coy smiles and dark looks, captivating the barista with glances and actions instead of his words.

Fujigaya imagines that it would be somewhat difficult to win the barista over; after all, he looked a bit put off by Fujigaya at first. But that’s more fun, he thinks. It may be cocky of him, but Fujigaya is certain that he could win the barista over, taking his sweet time to enjoy it all the more.

Talking dirty for a living makes it easier to say regular things that most people would have trouble admitting out loud. Sometimes it gets him in trouble, like when he tells his boss exactly what he thinks about mandatory overtime, but usually it just results in leaving whomever he’s speaking to completely flustered because he has no brain-to-mouth filter.

“You are really hot,” Fujigaya says to the barista, this Tamamori, who promptly knocks over the drink he’d been making and hisses at the drops of scalding liquid that slosh onto his hands. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Tamamori’s face is almost as red as his hands, which wring helplessly as another barista shoves him out of the way and tells him to go run them under cold water. There are only a few other customers in the shop, who look concerned when Tamamori runs into the little door that separates the lobby from the backline.

He’s having a rough time twisting the lock and Fujigaya doesn’t think twice before rushing to help him, nodding in apology to the other baristas as he gets the door open and grabs Tamamori by the wrist. Quickly he ushers them into the men’s bathroom, where he sticks Tamamori’s hands under the faucet and spins the cold tap.

“It doesn’t look too bad,” he says, scrutinizing Tamamori’s skin for any potential blisters. “I’m really sorry, by the way. You shouldn’t be so surprised, though. I’m sure you hear that all the time.”

“Can you just…not talk?” Tamamori asks slowly, and Fujigaya lifts his eyes to find Tamamori staring at him in a mixture of awe and something else.

It’s that something else that has Fujigaya leaning forward, realizing all too late that this is a bad idea and he’s going to send Tamamori running as far away as possible, but he couldn’t be more wrong when those lips press against his wholeheartedly. It takes Fujigaya a second to process that his kiss is being reciprocated, then he brings up his hand to cup Tamamori’s jaw, kissing him full force.

Tamamori makes a small squeaky noise in the back of his throat and shivers almost violently, leading Fujigaya to pull back in concern. “Cold,” Tamamori explains, and Fujigaya smiles.

He considers his next words for a brief second. “You could warm them up,” Fujigaya says casually, keeping his hands on Tamamori’s face and staring from one of his eyes to the other, gauging his reaction before leaning in to kiss Tamamori once more. “If you wanted to, that is,” Fujigaya mumbles into the kiss.

Tamamori hums and returns the kiss then, almost shyly, says, “That would be kind of hard since my hands are burnt.”

Fujigaya pulls back just enough for them to both laugh and he finds himself momentarily captivated by Tamamori’s. It’s about as awkward as the rest of him, but deep and sort of tickles at Fujigaya’s skin. He wouldn’t mind hearing more of that, Fujigaya thinks as he reluctantly pulls away to look at Tamamori’s hands once more before turning the water back off. To his credit, Fujigaya only jumps _slightly_ when Tamamori shakes the water off his hands and presses his cold finger tips to Fujigaya’s cheeks. “Returning the favor,” he says as a small blush creeps across his face.

Nodding, Fujigaya stands there as Tamamori makes no effort to move in any direction until someone comes into the bathroom. “Oi, Tamamori,” they say, and Tamamori jumps nearly two meters away, banging his head on a towel dispenser harshly. “Shit.” He brings a band to the back of his head to rub at the sore spot. That and combined with the flush on his face has Fujigaya nearly doubled over in laughter.

“You really do have the coordination of a newborn giraffe!” He manages to get out, cheeks turning bright red from the lack of air in his lungs.

Tamamori pouts a bit, but covers it up with a scowl as he rubs at the spot a bit more before turning to tell his co-worker he’ll be out in a minute.

When they’re alone again and Fujigaya manages to stop howling in laughter, he looks up at Tamamori with a large smile. “I don’t suppose you’ll kill yourself if I leave now, right?”

“Of course not,” Tamamori says, but his face is still a deep shade of red. “I do work here.”

“I wonder how,” Fujigaya replies with just to be ornery. He smirks anyway before heading out of the bathroom, Tamamori right behind him.

Back at the front counter, Fujigaya grabs his bag and the muffin he already paid for with a tired sigh. “What about your coffee, sir?” one of the other baristas asks.

Holding up his muffin, Fujigaya just waves. “This is fine.” He casts his eyes over to Tamamori who is helping out with anything that _isn’t coffee_. “I just expect the best coffee next time,” he says and winks before heading out. He likes this barista, he’s fun to tease.

Fujigaya could kick himself later as he pretends to be into bondage and punishment for money. He knows better than to move so fast with someone before they know the truth about his job. He’ll just have to come clean the next time he sees Tamamori, which will hopefully be this following morning after his shift—and if he runs, he runs.

Momentarily Fujigaya amuses himself with the vision that Tamamori would trip and fall right on his gorgeous face if he tried to run anywhere, masking his laugh into a gasp of pain for his power-hungry caller.

Maybe he would be okay with it. Tamamori doesn’t seem the type to push him to bring his work home with him if he’s up front about his dislike for it. He had told him to stop talking when they were in the bathroom, after all. Fujigaya’s fine with that, though he wouldn’t mind Tamamori saying some of these filthy things he himself finds second nature just because he would be so embarrassed and cute as he does it.

Then M-kun calls back and Fujigaya feels a little torn. There’s just something about M-kun that just draws his attention, even though he’s never seen the other man’s face. Possibly it’s just the fact that Fujigaya gets to do what he wants with him, and this time is no different. He’s partway into the continuation of his bathroom tryst with Tamamori, which leads up to Fujigaya bent over the sink, when M-kun clears his throat rather pointedly.

“Do you want to know what the M stands for?” he asks, using his actual voice instead of the hushed whispers he usually does, and it’s creepy for the three and a half seconds it takes Fujigaya to identify it.

“Yes,” he answers, staring straight through the T&A calendar on his cubicle wall in disbelief.

“Mori,” the other man answers. “It was my nickname in high school.”

Fujigaya’s heart jumps into his throat. “You’re…”

He can almost picture the flush on Tamamori’s face as he puts together the pieces of the puzzle. “So that’s why!” he says almost too loudly, gaining a look from the person in the cubicle next to his. Fujigaya clears his throat and shifts at his desk. He wants to laugh at the irony of it all considering his earlier thoughts, but he bottles his amusement up, settling on a smile at the calendar.

“I couldn’t believe it that morning,” Tamamori says. “When you came in asking about which muffins containing nuts.”

“Mm,” Fujigaya says in an amused tone. “What can I say, I _love_ nuts.” He doesn’t intend for it to sound sexual, but it comes with the job. Sometimes he says things more seductively than intended and even if this is a conversation he’d love to have right now, Fujigaya is still on the clock for another six hours. He hears Tamamori shift over the line, probably nervous. “You’re not going to look at me differently now, are you?”

There’s a pause that has Fujigaya’s heart speed up and makes him hold his breath without his knowledge. “Probably not,” Tamamori says finally and Fujigaya exhales deeply, gaining a laugh from Tamamori. “Worried?”

He snorts. “Of course not. No one can resist me.” It sounds stupid once it leaves his mouth, but Fujigaya’s long stopped worrying about the effect his words take, he says things he doesn’t mean all the time, no use dwelling on it once it’s out in the open.

“I should hang up,” comes the soft whisper of Tamamori’s voice. It’s not like his usual whisper, or the one that Fujigaya hears usually, the alleged M-kun. It’s more of a wistful one that speaks all the things Tamamori doesn’t actually say. “I have work in the morning,” he says but what Fujigaya hears is something different, more along the lines of “I have to serve assholes tomorrow so I can spend another evening next week listening to your voice.” Fujigaya likes to get paid, it keeps his small apartment warm and his stomach full, but he also would love to talk to Tamamori more, or to hear him talk for once. Aside from their face-to-face encounter, Fujigaya has never heard him talk that much besides the soft moans of encouragement.

“Yes, that is important.” Fujigaya plays with the hair at the base of his head, threading his finger through it and fluffing it up.

“I don’t want to hang up, though,” Tamamori says after a moment and Fujigaya really does laugh this time, gaining another look from his co-worker. “I’m being looked at,” Fujigaya replies. “Maybe it’s best you do.”

Another pause. Maybe Tamamori’s considering his options. Fujigaya imagines him looking around thoughtfully before making a decision, picturing those dark brown eyes darting around as he thinks before lighting up with his answer. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” He wants to say yes, but now the cat is out of the bag Fujigaya feels an instinct to play hard to get, make it a challenge even though Tamamori most likely will. “We’ll see how things fare.”

“Hm.” Tamamori doesn’t seem to like this answer, but it makes Fujigaya smirk as he leans on his desk. “Goodnight, Fujigaya-san.”

“M-kun,” he replies with before the line goes dead.

In the morning Fujigaya doesn’t stop by the coffee shop, mainly because he’s asleep on his feet having a long rest of the night after that and he doesn’t honestly understand how he makes it all the way home and into his bed. He dreams of Tamamori and watching the red flush spread to other parts of his body as Fujigaya whispers things to him, some so incredibly dirty and some far too innocent in contrast until Tamamori stops him from talking all together by pressing their lips together in a slow but searing kiss.

Fujigaya’s off work for the next two days, though he still sets his alarm and wakes up ridiculously early to stroll up to the coffee shop. Tamamori’s not there either day, and Fujigaya’s amused that they actually have the same days off until he walks out of the shop on the second day and sees Tamamori leaning against the brick wall across the street, eyeing him.

“Stalking me now?” Tamamori calls out, and Fujigaya grins as he jogs over to him.

“Hey,” Fujigaya says, the sight of Tamamori in street clothes enough to make him forget what he was going to say. “I wanted to see you.”

Tamamori makes a grand gesture with his hands. “Here I am.”

“I just,” Fujigaya starts, his words getting all jumbled in his throat because while he makes a living talking complete strangers into orgasm, he can’t actually express his feelings well. “I don’t think you should have to pay to talk to me.”

“Giving away freebies now?” Tamamori asks, his expression a cross between sly and anxious. He’s nearly drowning in a big knit sweater with a leather jacket unzipped and a pair of jeans that look like the fades are actually natural instead of fabricated.

“No,” Fujigaya answers more firmly than he’d intended, and Tamamori raises an eyebrow. “I mean, I do that shit all night, I don’t want to do it in my personal life, you know?”

“Not really,” Tamamori answers. “I make coffee all day, but sometimes i’ll indulge in a cup in my off time. Even if I have to make it myself, it’s just how I like it, you know? I don’t mind that.”

Fujigaya thinks about this comparison for a second as he watches the rapid progression of anxiety in Tamamori’s eyes. He’s pretending to be careless, but he’s really bad at it, which is something Fujigaya can relate to a lot. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

It’s not the most suave proposition, but it serves the purpose as Tamamori’s eyes get darker. “I still live with my parents. Baristas don’t make that much, especially if they blow most of it on phone sex lines.”

Fujigaya swallows hard. “I live with a friend, but he keeps vampire hours and sleeps when the sun comes up.”

“It’s six-thirty in the morning,” Tamamori points out. “I’m only here because my co-worker called me yesterday and told me you were obviously looking for me. It’s the same one who walked in on us in the bathroom, so I’m sure he meant well.”

“So do you want to?” Fujigaya asks, and Tamamori’s rapid nodding makes him feel warm despite the early morning winter cold.

The walk back to his apartment is easy. Fujigaya doesn’t feel the need to start a conversation and Tamamori doesn’t either. Being around Tamamori is easier than most people; Fujigaya believes it has to do with the fact that they’ve said things to each other over the phone for months now that would make some people grimace in public. He likes the lack of pressure to say anything, it almost makes him want to say something but there’s a lack of words in his head so the silence remains until they get to Fujigaya’s.

Once inside, Fujigaya hesitates. Would it be weird to just go right for it? Make his intentions even more obvious than before, or does he go for the slow build up? From the corner of his eye, Tamamori looks anxious still, not sure what he should do with himself and waiting fro Fujigaya to make the first move; he did propose the idea after all.

To hell with it, Fujigaya thinks before wrapping a hand around Tamamori’s wrist and pulling him close, pressing their lips together as his free hand reaches up to Tamamori’s jaw, cupping it and helping Tamamori to tilt his head just a bit so they fit together perfectly. It’s not as innocent as that first time in the bathroom, but isn’t near the level of some of the things they’ve talked about over the phone. It’s shy, perhaps, Fujigaya slowly parting his lips and licking at Tamamori’s bottom one. Nothing too demanding, causal almost as he takes his time to enjoy it. Tamamori seems to agree with the idea as he sighs and parts his lips when he’s ready, allowing Fujigaya’s tongue to slip into his mouth and along his own, over the roof of his mouth, and over his teeth.

It’s been awhile since Fujigaya’s had a kiss he could enjoy, most of the time broken by all the people who want to _to hear_ his voice instead of have his mouth, getting off more on the sounds than the touches. Tamamori seems to be okay with anything Fujigaya does, actively kissing back at the same pace but not taking it any faster or pressing to hear him talk, just barely lifting his hands to Fujigaya’s body.

Slow, Fujigaya thinks as he breaks the kiss to breathe for a moment, opening his eyes to see the flush on Tamamori’s cheeks. That red that he’s been wanting to see again since their last encounter; he smiles at the dark look in Tamamori’s eyes before leaning back in and kissing next to Tamamori’s mouth, his cheek, along his jaw, down his neck then back up again until he makes it back to Tamamori’s lips that seem a bit more eager for his own now. Tamamori places a hand on Fujigaya’s hip, not bringing his closer nor pushing away, fingers wrapped around the fabric of Fujigaya’s sweater more than trying to get under it.

“What do you want to do?” Fujigaya asks, using his work voice out of habit, but he likes the way Tamamori shivers close to him. “Do you want to see my bedroom?”

Tamamori nods and Fujigaya wraps his fingers lightly around Tamamori’s wrist, guiding him more than dragging him down the hallway to his room. It’s nothing special, though Tamamori seems to think it would be by the strange face he makes upon walking in.

“Not what you expected?” Fujigaya asks with a laugh, gesturing to his boring-patterned bedspread and matching wood furniture. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Not disappointed,” Tamamori says. “I’m relieved, actually. I thought your room might be something akin to a love hotel theme room.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Fujigaya teases him. “My sheets _are_ silk, you just can’t see them yet.”

“I like silk,” Tamamori replies, and they lock eyes. Fujigaya thinks about the pair of them rolling around naked in his silk sheets and he can tell Tamamori’s thinking the same. Fujigaya starts to turn away, but Tamamori grabs his arm and pulls him right back in, this time taking control of the kiss and Fujigaya’s knees might have buckled, not just from the shock.

Fujigaya wraps his arms around Tamamori’s neck, completely passively and totally okay with letting Tamamori take charge and lead him to his own bed. His back hits the mattress and Tamamori’s heavier than he looks, covering Fujigaya’s body from head to toe and Fujigaya has absolutely no complaints about this.

His hands explore Tamamori’s back, more muscular than he expected from the other man’s wiry frame, but that just makes it feel even better under his fingers. Tamamori gasps into his mouth when those fingers slide under his shirt, touching his skin directly and slowly making their way around his waist to where his abs are just as chiseled.

“Damn, you have a nice body,” Fujigaya whispers between kisses, and Tamamori pulls back enough to smile shyly at him. “Let me see it.”

Tamamori stays there just long enough, unblinking while he looks at Fujigaya, for him to think that maybe he could’ve waited to say that but then Tamamori is moving again, leaning back just enough to pull his sweater and shirt up over his head and drop it off to the side on the floor of Fujigaya’s room.

“Damn,” Fujigaya whispers again, enjoying the embarrassed way Tamamori looks down and away from Fujigaya’s face for a second before leaning back in to kiss him.

He trails his hands lazily over the muscles in Tamamori’s abdomen, loving the way his breath hitches or the slight nip of Tamamori’s teeth against his lip when he reaches a ticklish spot.

Tamamori’s hands are hesitant once Fujigaya feels them at the hem of his shirt, like he wants to see more but isn’t sure if he’s ready for it. Fujigaya doesn’t pressure him, taking advantage to just map out the lines of Tamamori’s back with his hands and etch them into his mind for later.

Fujigaya sits up when Tamamori’s hands become more daring, pushing up at the shirt but not too much, just enough for Fujigaya to get the hint and detach his hands from Tamamori to curl his own fingers around them hem and pull it up over his head and letting it land somewhere close to Tamamori’s.

They stay there like that, Fujigaya waiting to see Tamamori’s next move, content in feeling Tamamori sitting on his thighs, face a tad flush. “Not what you were expecting?” he teases because he distinctly remembers how he had described himself to Tamamori over the phone.

Tamamori shakes his head. “Better.” He bites the corner of his lip before wrapping his arms around Fujigaya’s waist and shifting closer.

It feels even better once they’re skin to skin, though the fabric of Fujigaya’s pants are now a hindrance. Tamamori’s jeans, while looking great on him, are rather rough against Fujigaya’s cotton, particularly when the friction starts to arouse him. It only takes a faint groan from Tamamori to make him all the way hard, which Tamamori definitely notices as he’s now grinding down purposefully.

“Tamamori-kun,” Fujigaya gets out, falling out of their kiss when the next rock against him has him arching. Tamamori’s mouth just relocates to his neck, which feels almost as good pressing wet kisses up and down his throat.

“You always have to tell those people what you want to do to them, right?” Tamamori says, a bit breathless, speaking of ‘those people’ like he wasn’t one of them, the most frequent even. “Is that the part you don’t like doing in situations like this?”

Fujigaya processes most of those words and figures agreeing is good enough; honestly, Fujigaya will say whatever Tamamori wants right now as long as he doesn’t stop moving against him, possibly doing more…

“So tell me what you want instead,” Tamamori goes on, and Fujigaya feels himself flushing in a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. “Like if you want me to touch you somewhere…or put my mouth somewhere…you don’t get to do that at work, right?”

Fujigaya chokes on his next breath at the thought of where he could tell Tamamori to put his mouth, which is apparently spelled out on his face with the way Tamamori smirks down at him as he leans up.

“Tell me,” Tamamori whispers, and it’s hotter than anything he’s ever said on the phone. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“I want you to suck me off,” Fujigaya whispers back, capturing Tamamori’s lips and taking the bottom one between his teeth, kissing him roughly this time with more urgency, ready to feel all of the things that mouth can do. He pulls away, flopping back down against the bed while Tamamori makes his way down Fujigaya’s neck, nipping at the skin and licking at his clavicles. Fujigaya hums in approval the father down he gets, breath sharper when Tamamori reaches his belly button piercing.

“You never mentioned this,” Tamamori says against the skin, then tugs on it gently with his teeth that has Fujigaya making a low noise in the back of his throat. He would say something, but his mind is on other things right now, like getting Tamamori away from the small bar bell in his stomach to where he really wants him, even if this feels absolutely amazing, the turn on of someone playing with it slightly heightened since none of his recent physical partners have done so.

Fujigaya moves his hips up when he feels Tamamori’s hands brush against his clothed erection, wanting to feel them on his skin. Fingers slide against the waistband of his pants and boxers, pulling them down slowly, almost painfully slow, until he feels the cooler air is the room touch his skin. Gasping softly, Fujigaya lifts his hips off the bed so Tamamori can work his clothes the rest of the way off, dropping them on the floor. In the sliver of time between Tamamori removing his clothes and wrapping his fingers around him Fujigaya almost does it himself, enjoying the tease of it all but still desiring the friction more.

Tamamori’s hands are warm on his cock, fingers long and wrapping all the way around as he licks at the tip experimentally. Tease, Fujigaya wants to say but the word doesn’t come out, just a small noise because it’s been awhile since someone’s done this as well. Fujigaya is always the one to use his mouth, no matter who or what it is. He threads a hand into Tamamori’s hair, the brown locks soft through his fingers as he grips it just as Tamamori takes him in his mouth, tongue sliding along the underside. “Mm,” Tamamori makes a low sound that Fujigaya feels through his entire length and he has to force himself not to thrust up, letting Tamamori get used to him. He watches the slow stretch of Tamamori’s lips as he takes more until he gets a decent amount in and starts to pull back, moving his head in a slow bobbing motion to start.

If he didn’t have other things to do next on his mind, Fujigaya would keep Tamamori there, lush lips wrapped around his cock, dark eyes staring right back at him through mushed up hair. It’s so _hot_ and Fujigaya idly wonders why they didn’t do this that time in the bathroom at Tamamori’s job.

Fujigaya’s moan is loud when Tamamori pulls just enough just to focus on the head a while, tongue slipping all around him, licking each and every part, stopping to press against the slit until Fujigaya twitches a little and closes his eyes, letting his head fall back completely. He could do this all day, feel Tamamori’s mouth on every part of him.

The fingers are back, long and warm as they wrap around him once more. Tamamori licks only at the underside, tracing the vein with his tongue until he’s close enough to Fujigaya’s balls and sucks one into his mouth. “Fuck, Tamamori,” Fujigaya says, and as much as he wants to look it’s too much effort to raise his head. The hand wrapped around him works him slowly at first, then faster as Fujigaya’s hips jerk, wanting to buck up into the heat of Tamamori’s hand. “Stop,” he manages to say, feeling far too close to the edge and wanting to be inside Tamamori so much, or to have Tamamori inside him. It doesn’t really matter.

Tamamori keeps going though, clearly not having realized that his stop wasn’t an encouragement to go faster, mouth detaching from one ball and going to the other to repeat the action. He’s close, Tamamori’s fingers running over the tip, searing the pre-come and it’s all Fujigaya can to do think and pull roughly on Tamamori’s hair while grunting a low, “Stop,” again but secretly hoping that maybe he doesn’t.

“What?” Tamamori gasps, pulling back and resting his head on Fujigaya’s thigh, breath short and face impossibly red.

Fujigaya rolls his head to the side and looks down awkwardly at Tamamori’s dark eyes. “Get up here,” he says, fingers falling from Tamamori’s hair and to his arm, trying to drag him up the length of his body, but his arms feel too heavy, not wishing to work properly so close to the edge. “And lose the pants.”

Fujigaya’s so turned on that he doesn’t give Tamamori time to follow directions on his own, gently urging him up by his hair and back into Fujigaya’s mouth. Tamamori’s pretty ruthless, too, hastily shoving his pants down as he kisses Fujigaya deeply, groaning when his cock bumps Fujigaya’s thigh.

Fujigaya reaches for it instantly, taking it in his hand and stroking lightly, gauging how Tamamori likes it from his reactions. This is something he could never do on the phone, feeling the weight of a cock in his hand, hard and throbbing as the body attached to it trembles at the touch.

“What else do you want?” Tamamori asks, pressing the words against Fujigaya’s lips. “I’m fine with either way, so you pick.”

“If you let me pick, I’ll want to top,” Fujigaya replies, laughing a little. Tamamori laughs, too, his smile even brighter when his face is pink with arousal. “Maybe I want you to talk me into it.”

The smile turns into a smirk, eyes locking as Tamamori slides his hands down Fujigaya’s side to his thighs, inadvertently spreading them. “You know that means more than one thing given your occupation, right?”

“That’s okay, too,” Fujigaya tells him, leaning back as Tamamori settles on top of him.

Tamamori stares at him for a second, then leans down to kiss him. It’s light, but lingering. “Do you have anything?”

“Yeah,” Fujigaya answers, blindly reaching for his nightstand because he doesn’t want to look away. “I really like the way you’re looking at me right now.”

“Yeah?” Tamamori pushes Fujigaya’s knees up a little and presses a kiss to the inside of one as he accepts the lube and condom from Fujigaya. “How am I looking at you?”

“Like I’m more than a voice,” Fujigaya answers, and Tamamori’s expression turns soft. “Will you talk for me this time?”

Tamamori inhales deeply, then leans down to brush his lips against Fujigaya’s ear. It makes him shiver, closely followed by an involuntary jerk of his body when slick fingers trail up the inside of his thigh. “What do you want me to say?”

“Anything,” Fujigaya replies, gasping as Tamamori slips one finger inside him. “Just let me hear your voice.”

“Mm,” Tamamori says, which is honestly good enough for Fujigaya, but it seems he’s only getting started. “You’re so tight, Fujigaya-kun. When was the last time you did this?”

“Not for a while now,” Fujigaya admits. “I’ll be fine, once you find— _oh_.”

“Right there?” Tamamori asks, and Fujigaya nods even though he’s fairly certain he doesn’t have to. Tamamori had pushed in a second finger and was now moving them both against his prostate, using just enough pressure to make him want more, so much that his hips cant up on their own. “So responsive, I love it.”

“Yeah, just like that,” Fujigaya says, and it’s different from the million and one other times he’s said it for money. He feels a third finger and now his body is really yearning for it, faint moans spilling from his lips as Tamamori keeps whispering filthy things in his ear.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, will you like that? Or do you like it slow and deep…I can do it however you want. I can go deeper if I turn you around…”

Fujigaya shudders at that, arching so much that his back is completely off the bed at the thought. He’s not the only one who can paint a porno with words, apparently.

“You want me to, don’t you?” Tamamori asks, already nudging one of Fujigaya’s hips. “But I don’t like being so far away, so I’ll have to lay on your back.”

He removes his fingers long enough to roll Fujigaya onto his belly, not onto all fours like he’d expected, and now Tamamori’s weight is heavy on his back, pushing him into the mattress. He brings up one of Fujigaya’s legs before returning his fingers to their previous location and it’s already so much better.

“Oh my god,” Fujigaya mutters into his pillow, Tamamori sweeping aside his hair to latch his mouth onto the back of his neck as he simulates sex with his fingers. “Come on, Tamamori, want to feel you.”

Tamamori just hums as he pulls out his fingers, then the sound of foil crinkling reaches Fujigaya’s ear just before Tamamori’s mouth does. It’s a sensitive spot he didn’t know he had and he’s already moaning when Tamamori enters him, filling him all the way before pausing to give him a bit to adjust.

Fujigaya hums when Tamamori shifts ever so slightly, moving just a bit to kiss more behind Fujigaya’s ear and the slope of skin just before his neck. He rocks his hips back as much as he can with the limited space. “Tamamori,” he says, voice low and breathy.

“Mm.” Tamamori pulls out, lifting his lower half from Fujigaya until only the head of his cock is still in, then thrusts back in slowly. He sets a steady pace that Fujigaya lifts his hips up from the bed to push back against, moans muffled into the pillow each time Tamamori manages to graze that spot deep inside.

“More,” Fujigaya groans, feeling Tamamori’s tongue on the shell of his ear. It’s so hot, his arousal through the roof combined with their efforts of moving together, not to mention the length of Tamamori’s body against his own.

A hand works it’s way between Fujigaya and the sheet, fingers tickling his side as it moves down south until they coil around his cock. Tamamori jerks him off in time to their thrusts, pulling all these incoherent sounds from Fujigaya as he returns to whispering things into his ear, pushing into Fujigaya harder now, skin slapping against each other.

“Oh fuck,” Tamamori hisses, his breath tickling Fujigaya’s ear and making him moan even louder, all real. Tamamori has to thrust harder now, to push through the resistance of Fujigaya’s body as it starts to fall apart, and Fujigaya’s arching so much that Tamamori can wrap an arm around him comfortably, pressing his lips wherever he can reach.

“I’m close,” Fujigaya warns, and Tamamori moves faster, both his hand and his hips, until Fujigaya’s crying out, losing his sense of reality as Tamamori fists the head of his cock to catch it all in his hand.

He’s taken higher by Tamamori’s deep groan, which prefaces his entire body shuddering on top of Fujigaya as he gives a few more sharp thrusts before pulsing inside him. He doesn’t move right away, leading Fujigaya to squirm a bit until Tamamori seems to remember where he is and pulls out, rolling over enough for Fujigaya to escape.

He can’t go very far, though, because Tamamori’s arm is still hooked around him, and Fujigaya’s not that much in a hurry to remove it. Tamamori’s heartbeat is thumping against his back, breath heavy on his shoulder as he struggles to catch it much like Fujigaya himself is doing.

“Are you asleep?” Fujigaya asks, only a little irritated. That damn stripper had always fallen asleep afterwards.

But Tamamori answers him with a firm squeeze around his waist. “Nope.”

It should be awkward, and maybe it would be if Fujigaya hadn’t just gotten his brains fucked out, but all he can focus on is how he feels and how Tamamori feels wrapped around him like this.

“Ugh, you do all the work next time,” Tamamori groans, and Fujigaya just laughs as he agrees.

M-kun doesn’t call again, at least not through the company dispatch. One would think that the last thing Fujigaya would want to do on his break is talk dirty on his own phone, but that’s exactly what he does. Tamamori’s shift starts early enough that he has to get up around the same time of Fujigaya’s last break, so Fujigaya happily gives him a wake-up call and sends him off to work in an exceptionally good mood. Most days that good mood is still around when Fujigaya gets off work and pays a visit to the coffee shop, ordering a muffin and sometimes coffee, and some days Tamamori’s mood had gone sour, leaving him pouting a bit behind the counter when Fujigaya enters, making him laugh loudly despite being tired.

Fujigaya always knows the best way to change that mood, stealing Tamamori for ten minutes for something quick that leaves Tamamori blushing when he goes back to work but small smiles for the day. And just to top it off, if Fujigaya has the next night off, he asks Tamamori out to dinner, saying that sometimes just having a date is nice.

(Though half the time they end up back in Fujigaya’s room trying not to make too much noise and bother his roommate.)


End file.
